


Left

by ThatAj



Series: Exposure: One Step at a Time [6]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV First Person, POV Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAj/pseuds/ThatAj
Summary: “This is Brian Kinney. When does he do what makes sense?"Justin's reaction to the events of Walk Away.





	Left

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't leave y'all with a cliffhanger for too long! Justin's POV of "Walk Away" and immediately following.

_“What thoughts do they have to take seriously?”_

_“Thoughts of...fuck!” My voice broke. I wiped my face and looked away but continued. “Thoughts of people I care about, being hurt. Being killed.”_

_“People you care about?”_

_“You... Gus,” I whispered._

_He looked me in the eyes. He stood up. And he walked out._

I didn’t recognize the strangled sound that came out of me. I held my face in my hands and bent over at the waist, resting my elbows on my knees and gulping huge sobs. My stomach felt like I was going to be sick, bile rose in my throat. My heart hurt like it had been punched.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. My worst fucking fears realized.

Brian was gone. I had driven him away. I was too much, too scary for him. And with him, he took the only real home I had known since I was 17. I whimpered again.

Fuck! No one knew I was here.

I could call someone. What the fuck would I say? Who would want me?

Why did I tell him?

I ran through every mistake I had ever made since I’ve met Brian, just tearing myself apart. Every time I had misunderstood what he was trying to tell me without words. My reaction when he bought me the computer. The look he gave me in Babylon before I turned and walked away with Ethan. Every cent he spent on my education that I had thrown away not once but twice. Every time I would see him resurrect the walls that had kept him safe - the walls he reluctantly began to dismantle for me - because I had once again hurt him. Replaying it all up to the lost and helpless look in his eyes right before he turned and left. Of course he had left. I had been deluding myself to think anything else would happen. Who wouldn’t leave?

_the heart has no bones you say so it won't break*_

I don’t know how long I sat there crying, surrounded by the other patients visiting with their loved ones. I finally felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, my vision blurred by tears.

“Justin?” A petite nurse with a nose ring and a gentle smile framed by soft blonde curls asked. Her name tag said “Tori.” “Was that your partner who just left?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“You’re obviously upset. But are you okay?”

I shrugged. What was okay anymore?

“Do you want me to page Dr. Bitonti and see if he can write an order for something to help calm you down?”

Fuck that doctor and his suggestion that I talk to Brian. I shook my head.

“Okay, how about a cup of coffee? Uh, decaf coffee.”

I shrugged one shoulder and then nodded. Tori picked up a nearby box of tissues and tilted it toward me. I grabbed a few and cleaned myself up as best I could. I didn’t want to think about how pathetic I must look.

We walked to the activity room and filled styrofoam cups with the foul stuff that passes for coffee in here. She smiled apologetically at me, “It’s not great, huh?”

I managed a weak smile and we sat down. “Your partner - what’s his name?”

“Brian.”

“Brian - was he upset with you?”

“Yeah. Dr. Bitonti suggested I tell him my thoughts and I scared him off.”

“Brian doesn’t look like the type of person to get scared easily. Although I guess we can never tell what’s someone’s like just by looking at them.”

“He doesn’t. Get scared easily. But I can’t fucking blame him. My thoughts are scary.”

Tori tilted her head and looked at me, like she was trying to figure something out. “Justin, when you came out, was everyone immediately supportive?”

I laughed bitterly, “Fuck no.”

“Yeah, I imagine some people were not at all supportive and probably still aren’t. But was there anyone who struggled at first to accept you but has since come around?”

“Yeah, my mom. She took me to a therapist at first but now she’s in PFLAG and has marched in Pride, and everything.”

“I’m glad your mom is supportive now. Just like your mom, sometimes people’s first reactions are not their final reaction. Sometimes people need time. Brian may need time.”

I stared at her. “Need time for what?” I said. “To get used to knowing that I’m having thoughts of hurting him and his son?”

I’ll give her credit, she didn’t flinch or bat an eyelash. But I guess she’s a psychiatric nurse and has seen and heard it all.

“Well, yes,” she said. “Those thoughts are scary to hear about, but that’s why you’re here Justin - to get better. I can’t promise anything - I don’t know you, and I don’t know Brian. But I’m going to guess that he’s never had to cope with his partner being hospitalized for psychiatric reasons.”

“He’s never had to deal with his partner anything. He’s never had a partner before.”

“Well, see, there you go. He needs to learn how to be a partner and, more importantly, a partner to you. Maybe we can’t expect him to get it right, not right away. Just like your mom didn’t get it right immediately either. But my guess is that at least when you came out, you had other people who had gone through it? Other people who could tell you their stories and who could encourage you to be patient with your mom? It’s harder with mental health stuff, because we don’t talk about it.”

“I guess you would know,” I said sullenly, more rudely than I intended. Oh well, I’m sure she dealt with assholes all the time.

“Yeah I would.” Something about her tone made me look at her. She smiled at me ruefully. “My partner had postpartum depression after giving birth to our child. You would think, being in the field, I would be a picture perfect partner to her. But working in mental health isn’t the same thing as being someone’s partner through shit like this. I didn’t always do the right thing. I had to learn how to be the type of support she needed. She was patient with me; we were patient with each other... I’m not excusing his behavior. He shouldn’t have walked out without saying anything. I am only saying that we can love someone deeply and still fuck shit up.”

I didn’t know what surprised me more, hearing my nurse curse like Debbie or learning that she had a partner and a kid. She looked about 18 but, then again, so did I. I’m sure the surprise was clear across my face. She smiled softly and put her hand on my arm. Before I could say anything, an orderly walked up and told me I had a visitor. There were still a couple of hours left before visiting hours ended. A visitor? Had Brian come back? I looked toward the door of the activity room.

“Daphne?”

“Justin!” She hurried over and wrapped her arms around me.

“What..? How did you…?”

She pulled back and looked at me and gave me a quizzical look. “Brian called me.”

“Brian?” I didn’t understand. Was this his way of getting rid of me? He couldn’t even face me to tell me he wanted to end whatever it was we had?

“Yeah,” Daphne still seemed confused. “He called me and asked me to come. He said you needed support... It’s okay he called me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah it is. I hadn’t wanted him to, but I guess if he’s going to leave me, I’m glad it’s you he called.” It could have been much worse. I could only imagine my mom here. Or, worse, Debbie followed by the entirety of Liberty Avenue.

“Leave you? Justin, what’s going on?”

I looked down at Tori, where she was still sitting at the table. “Go talk,” she said.

I walked Daphne to the visiting room and we sat next to each other. She put her arm around my waist and her head on my shoulder. “Justin, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Well, I guess I’ve been kinda depressed. Since getting back from LA, or, at least, that’s when it started. And, and two nights ago, Brian confronted me and I told him...I’ve been having suicidal thoughts.” I took another deep breath. “And violent thoughts...about Brian...and Gus. So...they’re holding me here. Until I’m not a risk. To myself. Or to others.” I wondered if it would ever get easier to say.

“Justin,” Daphne said softly. “I wish you had told me. I thought we tell each other everything. I just haven’t seen you much recently... I guess that’s a part of this, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I even realized what was going on until Brian... He called you? What did he say? How did he sound?” He must have called her as soon as he left the hospital for her to be here from across town so quickly.

“He sounded...he sounded awful. All he said was that you were at Allegany General, second floor, and that you needed me, you needed support. I didn’t even realize that the second floor is the psychiatric unit until I got here.”

“Did he...did he say why he wasn’t with me?” I’m not sure I really wanted to know.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Daph, it’s Brian. He doesn’t tell people things. I said something that made him angry and he walked out.”

“He was angry? Are you sure? He didn’t sound angry.”

“When he’s really angry, not having some queen out, he doesn’t sound angry. He talks quietly but you can hear the anger there,” I explained, thinking of the times Brian’s eyes would narrow, his voice would get low, and it would sound like he was just on the edge of totally losing it. That type of anger - not his shouting queen outs, not his cutting and sarcastic comments - that had never been aimed at me. Until now at least.

“I - I don’t think he’s angry Justin. He sounded... he sounded... I thought you had been hurt again.” She paused and looked at me. “I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen Brian cry. Probably the only time anyone has seen Brian cry. But it sounded like he was crying, or just about to. He said he couldn’t be here with you. He said he was hurting you...hurting you like always. That’s what he said.”

“That makes no sense. How can he be hurting me?”

“Jus, why do you think he’s angry at you? What did you say to him?”

“I...I told him about my violent thoughts towards him and Gus. See? Of course he’s angry. Who wouldn’t be angry?”

“Justin, he’s not, I’m sure of it. I know it makes sense that he would be, but this is Brian Kinney. When does he do what makes sense? I heard him, he wasn’t angry. He called me. He wanted you to have someone. When have I ever been wrong about you and Brian?” It’s true, she did have a pretty stellar track record.

“There’s always a first time. This is it. He probably hates me. Why wouldn’t he? I hate myself for this. Daph, I’m going to lose him.” As much as I didn’t want to, I started crying. I had no right to be crying. I had upset Brian, made him leave me. I had no right feeling sorry for myself when it was all my fault.

“Oh Justin,” she sighed and pulled me into a tight hug. It was pretty much exactly what I needed. “Brian has had so many good reasons to be angry with you, and he never is. The angriest he’s ever been with you was when the loft got robbed and even then he went to NYC after your bratty ass.”

“Because you punched him in the arm and told him to,” I sniffed and laughed. Jesus, my emotions were everywhere. 

“If that’s what you want to believe...then I’ll punch him and tell him to come after your bratty ass again. I think he’s a little scared of me. And I know he loves your ass, bratty or not.” We both laughed. God whatever was happening with Brian, he made a good call in sending Daphne here.

We spent the rest of visiting hours talking about mostly inconsequential shit. Sure, a best friend is someone who is there for the major life events. But really, a best friendship exists in those small moments when you’re feeling your worst, and you just don’t have to pretend otherwise. Daphne was in the middle of her senior year at Pitt and applying to medical schools. I was so fucking proud of her, even though I really didn’t want to think about her moving away to attend school. She was taking an abnormal psychology class that term to finish her pre-med requirements and wrote down notes on what I had been told about my symptoms, diagnoses, and treatment. I remembered after my bashing, the dogged way she researched everything she could about brain injuries and found memory drills for me to do. And I remembered how she pestered my physical therapists until they taught her how to help me do my exercises. I knew the next time I saw her, I would have a full report on “Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Depression but Were Afraid to Ask.” She was going to be a fucking phenomenal doctor. She would be fucking phenomenal at anything she put her mind to and I could easily imagine a President Chanders. And right then, she was putting her mind to being the best friend I could have ever imagined.

“Daph?”

“Mmm?”

“You know you’re great, right?”

“Sure do, Jus. Don’t know what you’d do without me.”

“Neither do I.”

Tori came into the visiting room. “Hey you two,” she said. “Visiting hours are over.”

Daphne groaned and rolled her eyes. We stood up and hugged and kissed and she popped me on the back of my head. “I’ll be back tomorrow, you dweeb.”

“Bye Daph, thanks for coming. Thanks for everything.”

She shook her head in exasperation, “You don’t have to thank me for being your friend.” She turned to Tori, and said, “Can you fix that? No? Too bad. See ya, Jus.”

After she left, Tori turned to me and grinned, “She really loves you, huh?”

“Yeah I guess she does.”

We started walking back to the rest of the unit. “Had she spoken to Brian?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I guess he called her when he left here.”

“He wanted to make sure you had someone in your corner, if he couldn’t be here.”

“That still leaves the question why he couldn’t fucking be here.”

“Seems like you’re going to have to wait and see, I’m sorry to say.”

“Seems like.” I bit my bottom lip.

“Listen, I’ve got to head home, my shift is over. Try to eat something and get some sleep, okay? I know from the outside, it’s easy to for me say, but just because everything feels like shit now, doesn’t mean it will always feel this way. You don’t have to believe that right now. I can hang onto that hope for you.”

I met her eyes and tried to smile, “Thanks. Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Good night, Justin. See you tomorrow.”

I ate what they were passing off as dinner and after, I sat in the TV room and sketched while the other patients watched Minority Report on TV. I avoided sketching any portraits of the others on the unit, to protect their privacy, although you wouldn’t be able to tell they were psychiatric patients by looking at them. I reflected that I guess I wasn’t what someone would imagine a psychiatric patient would look like either, yet there I was. After the movie finished, we all took our bedtime meds. It was my first time taking the medication Dr. Bitonti had prescribed - the Lexapro - and I really, really hoped I wouldn’t have a reaction. I washed up using the things Brian brought me this morning before everything went to shit. Or went further to shit. Who knew it could get worse than being hospitalized? The soap he brought was the type he used and it smelled like him. Too soon, I was in the narrow, uncomfortable hospital bed on my back, staring at the ceiling, and trying not to think about Brian. I didn’t need to cry myself to sleep like some pathetic kid. Last thing I wanted was to do something I knew would be a turnoff for Brian - not that he would know. I lay there, wrapped in Brian’s CMU hoodie, and tried to focus on my breathing. When I was having panic attacks all the time, I learned that deep breathing was helpful, in particular exhaling deeply and slowly. Something about the parasympathetic nervous system that makes the exhale signal to the brain that there’s no danger. I counted to inhale _1-2-3-4_ and to exhale _8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1_. Counting my breaths like that also forced me to focus on something else. As I breathed, I waited for sleep to take me under.

The next morning, I dragged myself to breakfast, which was something labeled as oatmeal but was really a gummy brick. And I stood in line for my morning meds, actually just a multivitamin they prescribed for my weight loss and subsequent slight malnutrition. I was lucky that I hadn’t lost so much weight that I was made to drink Ensure shakes in addition to meals, like some of the other patients.

I had stopped by the nurses’ station to say good morning to Tori and to show her my sketchbook since she had expressed interest, when the orderly told me I had a visitor. I was surprised that Daphne was there so early since, like me, she’s never been a willing early riser. I looked up and there, looking pale and exhausted, wearing one of my old paint-splattered t-shirts and his most worn out jeans, with a vulnerable look that made him seem like a shy boy, was Brian. I don’t even remember walking over to him, just suddenly his arms were wrapped around me and my chin was on his shoulder, and I could feel him taking short breaths. I raised my eyes over his shoulder and saw Tori smiling at us.

**Author's Note:**

> * Josh Ritter, You Don't Make It Easy Babe lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Duchamp, Inc


End file.
